I read the whole of the Central Co-Op’s ‘Funeral Plans’ information pack.
And very illuminating it was. It appears that if I pay them £1,750 up front now, they will undertake to collect my remains, shove them into a cheap wood-effect coffin (with chrome handles), convey them to a proper people incinerator at the nearest crematorium, and then hold onto the ashes for collection. And there’s still nothing extra to pay even if my life continues to walk its monotonous and wholly unremarkable path for another ten years yet while funeral costs treble. That sounds like a good deal to me.
Bear in mind that the cost of a short, standard, no-frills funeral is around £4,000 (and rising) these days. And further bear in mind that I don’t have very much money, and the two people who would be faced with the burden of paying for a funeral have no money at all. And then consider that I regard the whole business of having a funeral to be for the benefit of the bereaved, not the deceased, and it makes good sense to lay out the money now – as long as the potentially bereaved have no objection. Doesn’t it? I think so.
But I still have questions. I intend to go and ask them soon before the price goes up.
(Having written this, I was suddenly amused by a little thought. Wouldn’t it be fun to go into the swanky-but-subdued office at the funeral parlour – where they must have a ‘chapel of rest’ around the back somewhere for those awaiting despatch because I’m sure they all do – and ask: ‘I’ve never seen a dead body. Could I have a look at one of yours please?’ I wonder what the response would be.)
3 comments:
A witty blog, I thought. Of all the funeral providers out there, they're pretty good eggs and the two times I've called on them to help, they've been warm and responsive and not the cold, clinical types you might assume would venture into that way of earning a living. Funeral plan cowboys all got rooted out a couple of years ago once the financial conduct police got their mitts on them. It's weeded out the shysters from the pros, thank goodness. Oh, and I bet you the price of a decent coffee that you won't get to chat to anyone in the home about the plans or get to see a corpse. You've gotta talk to accredited specialists these days, so that those FCA rules are obeyed. Wishing you a lovely funeral, but not just yet, perhaps :-)
You were right about not speaking to anyone in the home about the plan. They gave me an information pack but I had to make an appointment with the regional specialist to actually arrange it. She kept saying things like 'We have to do it this way because...) And I didn't know that about the FCA, so thanks. And thanks for the comment. Do I know you?
Morning. I don't think I know you, no. I stumbled across your blog by accident, as one does on t'internet. Some nice posts you've shared. I read an article in The Guardian a couple of years ago about the regulation of funeral plans and my neighbour's son is best friends with a 'certified arranger' who chats to people who are interested in getting a funeral plan. They had to have background checks and prove they knew everything on the subject matter, as well as understanding if the person they're chatting to could be classed as a vulnerable customer. Sounds miles away from where it all used to be before the FCA got involved, but that feels like it's a good thing and it's more robust than it was. Still, now it's all been put to bed, my plan's just in a strong box with my other documents for when I shuffle off this mortal coil. I've chosen my entrance and exit music: I'll go in with "Is that all there is?" by Cristina, and leave with "So long, farewell" from The Sound of Music.
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